


Knock, Knock. Hey, You Got Some Time for Me?

by MosquitoParade



Series: The 'Knock, Knock.' Series [1]
Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale 3rd Person PoV, But if they were neighbors, Crowley goes by Anthony or Crowley depending on who you are, Crowley just likes plants and old music and betta fish, Crowley loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Domestic Fluff, Early 2000s vibe, End Goal is Domestic Life, Everything is innocent and nothing is gross, Extremely good Happy Ending, Famine and Pollution are old friends of Crowley, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Friends to Lovers, Human Aziraphale (Good Omens), Human Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Neighbors to Friends to Lovers, POV Third Person Limited, Romantic Fluff, Slice of Life, They are young adults, innocent fic, no real conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-08-19 05:18:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16528130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MosquitoParade/pseuds/MosquitoParade
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale had always seemed to live next to each other. It seemed like in the great cosmic scheme of it all, it was important that they do.





	Knock, Knock. Hey, You Got Some Time for Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SnowFoxxOfHere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowFoxxOfHere/gifts).



It wasn't even all that loud.

At least, that was Aziraphale's reasoning to why he was still tolerating the semi-punk rock music that easily penetrated the thin wall, lined with a few frames pictures and a full bookcase, that separated the two. He had an awful headache, and this other person didn't seem to understand general courtesy. So, after two hours of enduring this, he stood up from his workspace, and marched over to his neighbor's door, knocking firmly on the flimsy faux-wood.

The music was turned way down, and the door's knob was attempted. There was a moment before the top lock slid from its position and allowed the other to open the door.

A tanned man covered in freckles, with sunglasses placed on his slicked back, gorgeous black hair, revealing impressive dark chocolate eyes, and a sly smirk on his resting features, answered the door, leaning his body against the frame, "Hello," He hums, and looks over Aziraphale, which quite honestly, is not so much as 'looking over', and is much more possibly, 'raking his eyes over'. Was this man just really keen on observing, or perhaps the guy was fine with very openly checking him out? There is no possible way that the world had purposefully placed Aziraphale with quite possibly the only other gay man in existence. Or at least, in his apartment complex.

"Hello..." Aziraphale had lost his entire train of thought. Why was he over here again? It hadn't been all that important, surely.

The man chuckled, "Cat got your tongue?" He gave Aziraphale a chance to speak before continuing, "Well, if it's my best guess, you aren't here to sell something, it's too late. So, probably to ask about a cup of sugar?" The man smiled, and Aziraphale melted. Whatever it was, it wasn't all that important.

Sadly, it did resurface in his mind, pounding away. "Oh, I was just wondering if perhaps you could keep your music a bit quieter. Terribly sorry, but I've got a headache."

"No worries, it's getting late anyway." The man says, and looks over Aziraphale again, grinning about ear to ear, "Will that be all?"

"Oh, I forgot! I'm your neighbor, Aziraphale, to your right."

"I'm Anthony. But, you can call me Crowley." Crowley then winked, and Aziraphale blushed lightly.

~~~

It had been a month and two days, and Aziraphale had found himself more and more reason to bumble over to Crowley's flat. 'I need some paper', 'my printer isn't working', 'I need a red pen', 'My toilet isn't working'. Eventually, he'd gotten to know Crowley's flat as well as his own. An open plan, identical to his in design, but not decoration. Crowley had three old diner bar stools lining his island, an old broken 'open' sign that hangs on the wall between the stove and the fridge, an old worn leather sofa that sinks a little when you sit down, and maintained a gorgeous betta sorority of at least 20 fish that he refers to as 'the girls', and a single male betta in his own little tank affectionately referred to as 'handsome'. Another, _very major_ , thing about Crowley, was that the man was really into old rock music, and had several song quotes pinned up, or framed around the place. He additionally adored these little potted plants, and cooed at them when he thought Aziraphale couldn't hear him.

One evening, after a long day of video calls with higher-ups, there was a confident knock at his front door. Aziraphale thanked the person for giving him a good stretch, and glanced through the peephole. It was Crowley!

Aziraphale opened the door with meaning, hiding away the gleeful smile he felt deep down, in place of a more proper unreadable-neutral expression. "Oh, hello. What might you be by for?" He asked, hoping he didn't sound harsh.

Crowley smiled lightly, letting the visible happiness grace his features gently. He was extremely handsome, Aziraphale realized. "I need to borrow a cup of sugar," He hummed pleasantly, and Aziraphale could barely keep his attention from the man's eyes.

"Come on in," He welcomed, splaying the door for the other man, "Baking or tea?" He asks, allowing Crowley into his home.

"Baking," Crowley responded, and the other man watched him scan the rooms, looking for something. Aziraphale didn't ponder on it and instead made his way to the kitchen area.

"Do you usually bake?" Aziraphale asked in a gentle voice.

"No, not usually." Crowley hummed, "I hope I don't burn the place down." The man smiles and looks in Aziraphale's direction. The other man lightly chuckled.

"No, I don't think you will," He hums, and hands over a small, plain-colored, ceramic bowl full with sugar cubes. "Please bring it back some time."

Crowley carefully took the bowl with a grin that made Aziraphale melt, "Thanks, pet."

~

Several hours later, Crowley's cooking forgotten, there was a knock at his door. It was odd, yet, he'd gotten knocks pretty late, so it wasn't a new occurrence.

As the man opened the door, he realized that no one was there. He stepped out to glance down the hall, and then noticed his ceramic bowl sitting in front of his door, nearly stepped on, displaying a piece of vanilla cake. Aziraphale crouched down, and picked it up, smiling softly as he glanced over it. He gave a loving look over to Crowley's door before entering his own flat.

What a sweetheart.

Aziraphale got out a plastic fork and took a bite of the cake gingerly, expecting the worst, and hoping for decent. It wasn't the best cake, but it certainly wasn't unfavorable. Maybe a bit dry, and he could tell the frosting had been store bought and left open for a while, applied a little too early, then reapplied, but, besides for that, it was rather okay.

~

When Aziraphale was laying in bed that night, he felt prickly, and good thinking about Crowley, and his pretty eyes, and perfect smile. No, he didn't think dirty thoughts. But, rather about the idea of asking the man out to coffee, and holding his hand when they walked the street, or, perhaps, shamefully, he often daydreamed of curling up around Crowley after a particularly rough day, and feeling the other man sigh gently as he laid back in his grasp. However, Aziraphale was also perfectly fine with that not happening if the world so chose it. After all, it was simply impossible for Crowley to be into guys, and single with how absolutely stunning he was.

Perhaps Crowley's boyfriend or girlfriend lived out of town and would stop by any day now so that Aziraphale could dismiss all these silly thoughts.

~~~

It had been 5 days later, days filled with business, and having to promise Crowley 'later' to Aziraphale's absolute dismay. This one, however, was the 2nd knock today, and Aziraphale hoped for all that was holy, that it wasn't Crowley because, with the amount of work he had from his higher-ups, he was quite upset, and wasn't sure he wouldn't just break.

As he glanced through the peephole, he did see Crowley, who was holding something behind his back, sunglasses perched on his head, looking to the door. Okay, deep breath. Aziraphale did a small breathing exercise, counting down from 10 to regain his composure.

After so, he unlocked his door and opened it. "Crowley, I really haven't the time to do anything today, I'm sure you have other friends you could ask, please, because I'm extremely swamped today." He managed in one breath, rather fed up with everything today, and nothing was going to fix it.

Crowley had a smile on his face at first, and it had gradually disappeared to be replaced with a hurt frown, something Aziraphale hadn't thought Crowley was capable of. "I know... But... I thought maybe I could, ya know, swing by and..." The man seemed to be searching for a word, but more accurately was probably trying not to look so deflated as he continued to talk. "You're overworking yourself, love, and you're going to go grey if you don't get a rest."

Aziraphale hadn't been following until Crowley pulled a wine bottle from behind his back. "No, oh goodness, Crowley, I can't," He tried to explain, but watched Crowley's face fall. No wonder Crowley wore sunglasses, his face was remarkably expressive, and he couldn't hide his disappointment if he wanted to.

"Oh, nevermind, it's fine-" Crowley's pretty chocolate eyes had gotten noticeably more watery, and Aziraphale felt awful bad.

"I'm sorry, Crowley, it's just that..." Aziraphale quickly tried to form a good reason. "My job, I have so much work."

Maybe Crowley would have offered to help, maybe if he hadn't already felt like he'd lost, because he backed up, and waved a hand dismissively, as he mumbled apologies, and disappeared into his flat.

Aziraphale felt regretful, but, Crowley was a grown-up, and probably also had work. Aziraphale wouldn't be able to do anything tonight with a good conscious anyways, he had far too much work, and more people than just Crowley to disappoint otherwise.

~

As Aziraphale finally got a good portion of his work done, he checked the clock. 11 pm and Crowley was blasting his television at 100% volume. It had been bothering him for the past hour, and his progress had slowed due to the distraction, the only reason he was up this late. It was time to go see if the man was still awake, and could turn down the volume.

Aziraphale got up from his laptop, closing it to preserve battery life, and exited his own flat to knock on Crowley's adjacent door. There's a moment of pause before the doorknob turns, an ad playing loudly on the tv. The door opens to Crowley, who looks absolutely smashed, leaning in the doorway as he normally favored to do. He's dressed in an old grey shirt that displayed the name of a very old-timey band, faded almost completely, and dark red boxers that may have been worn and no longer fit right, but Aziraphale didn't let his gaze drift lower than Crowley's chest.

"Hey, Crowley, I was wondering if you could turn down your telly," He asked, trying to pretend this was a normal conversation. Aziraphale took a worried look past Crowley to the dark apartment. Just the television lighting the room.

Crowley stared for a moment, before frowning, "I guess." He huffed, "Is that... it?" He tilted his head down a little, cocking an eyebrow the best his drunk mind could conjure. He must have been tipsy, because he wasn't completely out of it, Aziraphale reasoned.

"Are you okay?" Aziraphale hazarded to ask.

"Do I look 'okay' to you?" Crowley asked in a tone that was threatening him to say yes. The closer Aziraphale looked, Crowley did indeed not look okay, disheveled at best. His eyes were puffy and red like he'd been crying, his hair was a mess, and he was sweating slightly. That was just what he could notice at a glance.

"Can I get something for you? Do something maybe?" He asked, "I feel terrible."

Crowley grumbled in response, tv still blaring behind him as his show came back on.

"Could I maybe make you something? Keep you company?" He continued, keeping an eye on Crowley as he seemed to zone out for a second.

"Would you stay over?" Crowley asked, looking at Aziraphale with a slightly worried expression, something else dancing behind those gorgeous eyes that Aziraphale couldn't place.

"Sure, just give me a second." Aziraphale gave Crowley a soft smile, and Crowley mirrored him, but slightly out of it.

"Okay."

~

Aziraphale had locked both his and Crowley's doors and settled beside Crowley on the nice plush couch that had a better angle than the leather sofa. The other man had pulled a soft blanket from the floor to cover his lower half, offering some to Aziraphale before laying his head on the other man's shoulder, intently watching the show that Aziraphale found easy to understand.

It was good here. Crowley's flat, and everything about the other man, was nice. Like the paint job in here; pleasant deep, warm browns, and sharp black to contrast nicely on Crowley's counters. Aziraphale also liked the smell of Crowley and his shampoo. He couldn't really say what it smelled like since soaps never were right on, but the smell was pleasant, and he couldn't say he'd found the scent elsewhere. Aziraphale liked a lot of things about Crowley.

Crowley adjusted beside Aziraphale, looping one of his arms through Aziraphale's to scooch closer, making a small happy noise as he found a good position. Comfortable, and dozing.

The night progressed to nothing more than Crowley falling asleep, and Aziraphale gently slipping away to let the man sleep peacefully. Afterward, Aziraphale cleaned up a few things that seemed to clutter the counters, and then made it back to his room, finishing a few more things, crossing ts, dotting is, before retiring to bed, setting his alarm only a few hours from then.

~~~

The next day, there was a knock at the door in the afternoon, comfortably later in the day, so Aziraphale wasn't all the busy, but he was tired and had been doing some light reading. He stood from his desk chair, sat down his book, and moseyed over to the front door, not bothering to check the peephole.

Crowley was on the other side, smiling nervously behind his sunglasses. "Hey, uhh, sorry about last night." He said in an apologetic tone, "I don't know what came over me. It was dumb, and I'm sorry you felt obligated to come over and see me that way."

"There's no need to apologize." There was, and Aziraphale knew it, but, it was nicer to say it this way, "But, you really shouldn't get drunk on your own, it can be dangerous. I wanted to stay over, for your safety. Sadly, I did have a work call early today, and was worried you didn't have an early enough alarm, so, I had to return to my flat before you woke up." He paused, smiling gently, "Were you okay on your own?"

Crowley didn't look comfortable, and shifted from foot to foot, "Yeah, yeah. I was fine." He responded and took a glance at his arm, which Aziraphale noticed, didn't have a watch, "I've got to be on my way, I have work."

"Well, I'll see you, I hope your hangover isn't all that bad." Aziraphale mentioned as Crowley was leaving, making sure he got down that hall okay. Crowley didn't turn back and played off his near trip as well as he could, and frankly, Aziraphale was worried but didn't voice his concern. Crowley was a grown-up. He knew what he was doing.

It was also important to note that Crowley worked from home, however, and that he shouldn't be going anywhere for work. Aziraphale knew this from the various papers he'd seen and not read, on Crowley's work desk, and that no other day in the past month or so had Crowley left his apartment for anything other than shopping. It was peculiar if nothing else. Aziraphale slid that little notion into the back of his head. He didn't need to worry about it all day. But he did anyway.

~~~

A few days later, Aziraphale was torn from a _quite riveting_ study he needed to summarize, by a knock on the door, that he knew in his heart was Crowley's. There was a certain heavy quality to the final knock of his sequence.

So, Aziraphale opened the door to the gorgeous face of his next-door neighbor, Crowley, lacking his typical sunglasses completely. "I know I already said sorry, but, like, I'm _really_ sorry." The other man said and then supplied a bouquet of white orchids and yellow roses, offering them to Aziraphale, who took them gratefully.

"Oh, they're beautiful," Aziraphale cooed as he blushed a soft pink, looking over the arrangement. No one gives flowers anymore, especially not to men. This had to be some kind of sign, right? "Thank you so much," He bubbled, "But, really, it was no trouble."

"Yeah, you keep saying that," Crowley rubbed the back of his neck, "Hey, uhh... I wanted to ask you something."

Maybe Crowley had lost his sunglasses, because he seemed awfully nervous. Aziraphale surely wouldn't have done it this way. "Go right ahead," Aziraphale said, running a finger over the soft petals of a rose, crinkling the plastic wrapping as he adjusted his grip. He had decided that he quite liked flowers.

Meanwhile, Crowley seemed to be trying to find his courage, clearing his throat before talking, "I was just wondering if perhaps you'd like to..." There's another awkward pause, and Crowley closes his eyes, trying to just get himself through what he was proposing, "I don't know.... be... taken out to dinner?" Crowley's voice almost squeaked, and Aziraphale could feel his nerves, "I- uhh... I have reservations with some old friends, and I need someone to accompany me." Crowley itched his face nervously, "Like, a date, I guess. I'm asking you on a date."

Crowley always seemed so confident, and this was what broke him down? A silly little date? Aziraphale answered him quickly, "What time?"

~

Aziraphale felt butterflies in his stomach the entire rest of the day.

He laid on his couch, curled up on himself, and stared up at the ceiling, just grinning to himself, bouquet still in hand, for almost an hour, reveling in the bliss he felt. Crowley had for real, just asked him out on a date, and how he loved Crowley so, so much for making the first move.

Finally, when Aziraphale could bring himself to working again, he placed his flowers in a vase on the coffee table in his 'living room' area. It was a nice constant reminder about Crowley, and his sweet face, and wonderful smile, and... all those other excellent things, like the man's chocolate eyes, his freckles, or slicked back hair. It made everything about Aziraphale warm and fuzzy.

That night, Aziraphale finished up twice the amount of work as usual and fell asleep to tender thoughts of holding Crowley's hand, giving soft kisses to Crowley's forehead, staring out a window into a snowy backyard that they'd own as a fire roars beside them, spring and summer days of doing gardening, and some domestic nights of eating leftover pizza, or Chinese food, to the sound of rain, or soft rock music from a radio cassette player that Crowley toted around as one of his favorite possessions that Aziraphale would ever buy for him. The one he liked to imagine the best was that in some far-off years he'd be standing in rolled up, dirt-covered khaki shorts, and a white, ill-fitting, old tank top, wiping sweat from his brow as he filled a small pool from a hose for small Crowleys that would call him Dad, and eat little popsicles as Crowley applied sunscreen to chubby faces, and arms, kissing their little foreheads gently. It was a perfect, soulful thought that made Aziraphale hopeful.

~~~

The three days passed slowly. Luckily, each day, Crowley would stop by.

The first day, Crowley seemed a bit off, keeping up small talk for about a minute before he started to back up, dropping his cool demeanor. That's when Aziraphale realized that Crowley was extremely awkward deep down, and had no more a clue how to broach the idea of now being boyfriends than Aziraphale did. So, he did it for the man, "Would you like to come inside?" Aziraphale asked in a welcoming tone, "I can make us some sandwiches, and..." What would Crowley enjoy? "We can watch some TV, or you can play your music if you'd like." He offered, watching Crowley's face brighten.

"I'd like that."

The second day, they lounged around Crowley's flat, half asleep all day, and full of useless junk foods, but quite content.

The third day, Crowley was getting more confident again, and he made the gentle first move of holding Aziraphale's hand, and it was positively glorious. The man's hand was cooler against his, and he gave Aziraphale this content look, like a cat that found an extremely good spot in the sun, and laid his head against Aziraphale's, humming. It was wonderful, and Aziraphale wanted that moment to last forever. It didn't, but, somehow, it felt like it did.

~

Crowley hadn't shown up early the day of the date. In fact, Crowley didn't show up until half an hour before the date. The entire morning, and up until right now, was unremarkable, and nothing mattered. He read a little bit, set up his window planter, adding some seed to grow a few marigolds, watered them lightly, and waited around. Now, though. Now was important, and it made Aziraphale's heart beat fast, seeing Crowley on the other side of the door. So, he opened it, and grinned at the other man, who was, for the second time in one week, lacking his sunglasses, and, for the first time ever, wearing his natural hair brushed back. It made his hair almost a dark drown compared to how it looked black with all the gel.

"Hello, Crowley. Time to go?" Aziraphale asked, smiling lightly and raising an eyebrow. Crowley was dressed nice, open black suit with a red dress shirt underneath, and a black tie. It contrasted to Aziraphale's lighter outfit of a tan sweater vest over a white dress shirt, and a-

"Oh, you're wearing a lighter-colored bow tie?" Crowley asked, eyes glued to the tied accent fabric, tilting his head ever so slightly.

"A-? Oh," In fact, yes, Aziraphale was wearing a lighter colored bow tie, because, somehow, it had slipped through his perfect sorting system, and ended up with the whites, which weren't ruined. Luckily, he'd noticed the miscellaneous red, but the bleach he used had already lightened the normally dark wine-red bow tie to a faded, almost pink, save for some splotches on the back, but that didn't matter. No one would see that side. "I am, actually," He paused, "Thank you for noticing."

"Yeah, it looks splendid on you. You should wear it more often." Crowley offered a smile. It made Aziraphale's heart warm.

"Really?" He hazarded to ask.

"Really," Crowley assured, nodding, "We should go." Aziraphale nodded, following Crowley and holding his hand when the coast was clear, then down to the car park.

When Crowley approached one of the cars, Aziraphale was sure he was joking. He'd seen this... _extremely_ retired car from afar, and never dare parked next to it, for fear of the other car spontaneously combusting. He honestly thought the car had broken down here, as it was always parked in the same place. Crowley lovingly patted the hood and cooed some praise that Aziraphale was out of earshot to hear as he looked over the car from a safe distance. Surely, _surely_ , Crowley knew this car better than to drive in something potentially dangerous.

"What's her success rate?" Aziraphale asked, approaching Crowley, who still stood outside, resting against the old car.

"First of all, his. What's _his_ success rate. Second of all, 100%." Crowley smirked, "Just get in, love."

Aziraphale kept the possibility that Crowley was setting up to murder him at bay, and rounded the car, getting in the passenger side. However, the entire feeling of the car shifted once he shut the door and buckled in. It had a cassette player installed, which definitely wouldn't have been possible with how long ago this car was made. There was also an air conditioner that blew just the right temperature air. Definitely going to murder him, Aziraphale decided, but this would be a good way to go.

"I remodeled him, fixed him up." Crowley chuckled as he got in, "Old dogs _can_ learn new tricks." He explained before starting the car easily. "I know I have a few tapes. Pick your favorite," Crowley mused, pulling some tapes from under his seat. "Sometimes they get lost." He murmured, glancing over the names. "If you can't find a good one, I call 'Best of Queen'."

Aziraphale laughed, taking the tapes from Crowley so he could drive. He flicked through them and found several tapes for 'Best of Queen'. "Queen fan, are we?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at Crowley, watching the man's eyes flicker over to him.

"Psshh, you could say." Crowley smiled, "They just seem to pop up here, ya know?"

Aziraphale didn't know. He owned a car that only he drove, and that he kept immaculate. Nothing went missing that couldn't find with a small deal of logic and looking. "Yeah." Aziraphale continued to look through the tapes. He couldn't bash Crowley's music taste by not picking... That's when the man found another cartridge by his feet, and the yellowing piece of tape labeling the cassette read, 'Beethoven'. "Oh, classical? I didn't know you had a taste for it." Aziraphale queried, and looked at the tape, finding that it had been very politely rewound beforehand. This had to be Crowley's work.

Nevertheless, Aziraphale slipped the cassette into the player, and let the beautiful piano consume his thoughts.

~

When they arrived at the, _considerably_ fancy, restaurant, Crowley had gotten only a song into the 'Best of Queen' cassette, however, he didn't seem too distraught, and turned the car off to stop the tape. "You're going to like them, darling, I promise," Crowley prefaced, smiling nervously over at Aziraphale, who was unbuckling.

"I'm sure I am," Aziraphale responded, not quite used to the idea of pet names yet. Crowley locked up the car and Aziraphale gave a reassuring smile over at his boyfriend.

"What's eating at you?" Aziraphale inquired after a moment of Crowley visibly chewing his lip, stopping right before the large doors.

"I... I don't know." Crowley frowned, "I just... I want them to like you. I want them to like you so bad." Crowley whispered, clutching Aziraphale's hand tightly, but looking at the ground.

Aziraphale gently cupped Crowley's cheek, guiding his eyes to look at him, "But, it's okay if they don't, though." Aziraphale said, feeling Crowley lean just barely into his touch. "If they are against us, I leave, and wait out here." Aziraphale tried to persuade.

"No, it's... it's not that. They... ugh." Crowley lightly face-palmed, rubbing the heel of his hand down his face slowly. "You'll see." He muttered, standing up straight. Aziraphale helped make sure he looked presentable, and they entered after the other man asked once more if his partner was okay. Which was not given a response.

~

Inside, however, was a whole other ordeal.

Crowley was almost drowned out as he communicated that he was with someone already here to the host.

Aziraphale had convinced himself that the outside wasn't that fancy and that he was going somewhere within his regular price range. This was nowhere in his price range, and he quickly realized how utterly underdressed he was, compared to the brilliant, clean, crisp suits of most of the men here, and the stunning, flowy dresses of the women. It was vaguely like a wedding, if only everyone at a wedding wore gorgeous dresses with three layers and inches of gold and pretty jewelry around their necks and arms, and he was stark naked. At least until there was a tug at his arm that pulled him from his near crisis, and he noticed that Crowley had found whom he'd been looking for.

A man with a close-cropped haircut on the sides, short black hair that was neatly slicked back, a clean, trimmed beard, and a very, very expensive looking suit sat beside a younger man, who looked... pale, almost sickly so, and his hair was platinum white, no trace of blond left behind from what Aziraphale could only hope was bleach. This man's hair had also probably been tamed for the first time in months with how it looked. On a side note, is it rude to call someone albino when they looked the very definition? He'd ask Crowley later. No matter, the other man was in a matching suit, but his was a little more loved, and tearing at a few seams. The white-haired man rested his head on his hand, and seemed to be talking to the other man with a... maybe more dirty look then Aziraphale had ever seen before.

"Raven! Chalky!" Crowley greeted when they were just a few feet away, scooting out a chair, and gesturing for Aziraphale to sit. Which he gladly did, smiling at Crowley before facing the two strangers in front of him, both their attention on him for a brief moment. The black haired man drew his attention to Crowley, and soon his friend was no longer staring, which was kind of an odd sensation.

"This is my love, Aziraphale," Crowley announced, motioning to him, then to the two men, "Aziraphale, meet White Sable, better known as Chalky," The man with the white hair gave a relaxed peace sign with his fingers. It gave Aziraphale a good look at White's eyes, which were a light pink, "And, Chalky's husband, Raven Sable." Raven gave a glance of recognition, and nothing more.

"It's nice to meet you both," Aziraphale offered a hand, and Raven shook it with a strong grip, but batted away his husband's.

There was a wordless look that Raven gave White, and it seemed to resolve the dispute. Well, that wasn't awkward. Okay. Uhh, what do normal people do in this situation? Ignore it? Cool, Aziraphale was the king of ignoring things.

"So, if you don't mind me asking," Aziraphale began, looking between the other men, "Where'd the name Chalky come from?"

"Well, White thought he'd been handed a... what was it? Like, a chocolate something?" Crowley almost burst into laughter as, undoubtedly, this image or clip resurfaced in his brain.

"I can't believe you make me out to be an idiot." White huffed playfully, "No. I thought someone handed me a candy cigarette, so, I bit in, and realized that it indeed wasn't a candy cigarette." The man paused for, "It was a piece of chalk." Crowley cracked up, doubled over, hitting his fist on the table lightly, "They'd been passing around the blackboard chalk for someone to write down the answer to a math problem, but I thought it was some discreet candy black market." Crowley was having a ball beside Aziraphale, laughing heartily until he had to lean back and catch his breath.

"God, I love that story," Crowley smiled, wiping tears from his eyes. "The look on your face when you recognized your mistake. Priceless."

After a moment, the waitress approached the table, "Hello, gentlemen. Have you decided on drinks?" She asks in a polite and formal tone. Aziraphale realized that even the waiters put him to shame at dress. Well, he was already here.

Everyone rattled off their drink order in a sort of practiced ease, except for Aziraphale, who waited patiently for everyone to go, especially White, who ordered his as he pointed to a picture trying to make sure he could get it without ice, and two straws. "And you, sir?" She asked, looking up from the notepad.

"Oh, I'll have..." Even though he had all that time, he realized that he didn't even have what he wanted in mind.

"You could have some wine. That'd be fun." Crowley purred beside Aziraphale, who quickly decided against Crowley's friends seeing him even tipsy.

"Ohh," White sounded defeated, "I didn't know we could have wine."

"You know you aren't allowed to have alcohol in public," Raven said matter-of-factly, "You don't even have your id on you."

Aziraphale glanced over the menu through the side chatter, and looked up, "I'll just have a sweet tea." He reasoned, setting down the menu.

"Sure thing. Would you like that iced?" The women asked, writing down his order.

"No, thank you."

"Okay, your drinks will be out in a few minutes." She said in a nice tone, and left them.

~

The rest of the night went well. Aziraphale got slightly more used to the couple, and he could see why Crowley and White had been friends. As the evening drew to an end, Raven ended up giving White a few sips of wine, and his husband got all smiley, overly affectionate, and sappy. Overall, it was quite sweet. Especially how Crowley cooed over them leaving, wishing them a good night, good luck, and safe drive, promising to see them sometime soon.

Crowley even smiled gently to himself the entire drive home, letting Aziraphale pop in another classic cassette to listen to intently. It didn't seem to be one Crowley knew, because he only started to hum vaguely along, if you could even call it humming along, at the parts that 'repeated'. It was cute. Everything about Crowley was cute. How he talked to his little-potted plants, how he knocks, how he adjusts in his seat when he gets really comfortable in a conversation, how his eyes just stick to something, how he lays his head in his hand to stare out the window... all of it.

Aziraphale realized that he was deeply in love with this beautiful man.

~

When they got home, Crowley held Aziraphale's hand, a nice kind of strong grip, leading him to his flat's door, smiling over his shoulder just to look at Aziraphale. To make sure he wasn't making this all up. At least, that's what Aziraphale thought was going on in Crowley's head.

"Hey, uhh... Would you stay over?" He asked in the same tone he'd used to ask Aziraphale out on a date with. "Watch some dumb movies?" He fumbled for his keys, inserting them into the door.

"I'd love to," Aziraphale smiled, letting Crowley lead him into the unlit flat he knew well. He went to move for the living space, but, in just the light of the hallway from the door, Crowley tenderly hugged him. Aziraphale let out a small content sigh and he returned the hug, resting his forehead against his boyfriend's shoulder. He liked the smell of Crowley; his flat, his clothes, his hair. He'd have to ask what laundry detergent he used.

There was a slow, methodical rocking. A gentle, side to side, full body rocking that Aziraphale leaned into. It was calming to let Crowley lead the sway as he adjusted to move his arm. "Would you dance with me, Aziraphale to my right?" Crowley asked in a placid, quiet tone that made Aziraphale feel calm and serene.

"Of course I would, Anthony-but-you-can-call-me-Crowley," Aziraphale softly chuckled, relaxing into the embrace as Crowley guided his arm to the general position of a slow dance, making small steps, letting Aziraphale stay perfectly close and pressed up against Crowley intimately, following the steps easily.

It was wordless and beautiful, even loving, as Crowley lead him carefully with gentle direction, letting Aziraphale remain comfortable, happy, and quite sleepy in his arms. Meanwhile, a sliver of orange-tinged light from the hall illuminated only a fraction of them as they danced together, in harmony. They only knew themselves in the moment, and that was enough.


End file.
